


i can feel your energy from 2 planets away

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Saturday Night Live, Saturday Night Live RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Drug Use, Dub Con Due to Intoxication, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-12 13:01:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19946590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Seth comes home from a long day at work. Stefon is waiting for him.





	i can feel your energy from 2 planets away

**Author's Note:**

> 'bitch don't kill my vibe' by kendrick lamar is on Bill Hader's "songs that made him" spotify playlist and is also a SUPER stefon song, so I had to write something to it. This isn't as dark as I intended to go but hey, it's porn. 
> 
> Big thanks to Hannah for beta'ing! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Seth can hear the music the moment he steps off the elevator. The neighbors are going to complain again, and by the time he reaches his front door, annoyance is simmering under his skin. It’s been a long day, and the thudding of the base coming from his living room only makes Seth’s head pound worse.

Unsurprisingly, he finds Stefon in the center of the living room, dancing languidly about. He’s clad in his usual Ed Hardy tee and tight jeans; he doesn’t seem to notice Seth as he glides around the furniture, mouthing along to the words and sometimes letting breathy singing slip out. The song is on repeat, Seth quickly realizes—that, or this song is _very_ long and consists of little more than the hook, _“Bitch don’t kill my vibe.”_

Seth leaves his bag by the door and toes off his shoes before approaching Stefon. When he catches the other man by the hips, Stefon startles, yelps, whips around with a snarl on his lips. He’s ready for a fight and Seth is nearly ready to give it to him. 

Except Stefon’s eyes are glazed over, foggy from his high. Seth doesn’t know what Stefon ate or smoked or drank but he’s seen Stefon’s blue eyes more than enough times to know when the man is high or sober. At this moment, Seth isn’t even sure Stefon knows who he is. He’s still tense like he’s going to fight the hug Seth wraps him in. Stefon’s lips pull back, sneer widening, until Seth presses a kiss to the hinge of his jaw and Stefon just _melts_.

He goes pliant in Seth’s arms and lets out a soft, whining moan. 

Seth doesn’t smirk to himself, but his irritation settles. He dips Stefon onto the couch, settling the other man on his back, and admires the foggy gaze peering up at him. The song plays on and on and on and it’s starting to grate on Seth’s nerves, except then Stefon’s hand lays over Seth’s half hard cock, and rubs. 

Seth shoves him against the couch, shrugs out of his jacket, and then forcibly situations himself between Stefon’s legs. 

“Lube,” he says, and Stefon obediently reaches under the couch cushion and pulls out a half-empty bottle of lube. Seth busies himself with getting his belt off and his slacks and underpants pushed out of the way, while Stefon miraculously wriggles out of his tight skinny jeans with only one free hand. 

It’s a brief, tender, _ridiculous_ moment, but Seth thinks, _God, so talented, I love him,_ before shoving Stefon’s legs apart. Stefon squirts lube onto Seth’s fingers when he presents then, then unceremoniously tosses the bottle aside. It’s going to stain the carpet when it leaks, but Seth will deal with that later. 

He shoves two fingers into Stefon and isn’t surprised to find the man lax and loose for him. Stefon moans quietly, eyes fluttering gently. He’s still high as a kite, but his body is responsive and open to Seth. It’s addictive, the way Stefon is always ready for him, always hot for him. Seth quickly adds a third finger and swallows Stefon’s dazed whimper. 

“Fuck, Stefon.”

Stefon shivers. For a moment his eyes open, shocking blue lined with messy kohl and clumpy eyeliner, details Seth missed earlier in his fit of annoyance. Stefon’s mouth, lips chapped and bitten, drops open as he says, “Seth, wait.” 

Seth says, _“No,”_ sharp and quiet, and Stefon goes limp for him. Seth lines up his cock and watches as Stefon’s eyes slip shut and his mouth falls open as Seth pushes inside. Around them, the same song is thudding on what must be its hundredth loop, but it’s hardly more than white noise to his ears. 

“Seth Meyers,” Stefon slurs.

Seth ignores him and starts to thrust, fast and hard. He rocks Stefon against the warmth of the couch and he knows there will be fabric burns on his back and ass, and he knows that Stefon probably won’t remember how they got there. It’s both thrilling and devastating to think about, and Seth puts his frustration into the force of his thrusts. 

Stefon wails and his hands scramble over the couch for purchase he can’t find, because his fingers won’t close into fists, because he’s too fucking high.

“Fuck,” Seth growls. He peels a hand off Stefon’s thighs, already littered in fingerprint shaped bruises from Seth’s fingertips, and wraps it around the man’s cock instead. “C’mon, Stefon. Come for me.” 

Sometimes when he’s high it takes ages for Stefon to come, if he does at all; other times, Seth can coax a half dozen orgasms out of him before he blacks out. As Stefon shudders and come spills over Seth’s fingers, it’s clear to him it’s going to be the latter kind of night. 

Seth never relents in his thrusting and Stefon doesn’t protest. He manages to move his arms and drape them lazily around Seth’s shoulders. He tugs him closer and kisses messily at Seth’s chin. 

“Missed you,” Stefon whispers before moaning, long as loud, as Seth thrusts harder. 

Seth doesn’t reply but does press closer. His thrusts are short and deep and fast and before long, a second, weaker orgasm is trickling from Stefon’s cock and staining both their shirts. Some kind of clarity is coming back to Stefon’s glassy blue eyes and he bites at Seth’s jawline before soothing over the mark with his tongue. 

Then he lets out a shuddery breath and turns his head just enough to whisper in Seth’s ear, “Come inside me, Seth Meyers.”

Seth grunts as he slams his hips forward one last time before coming deep inside his lover; Stefon whimpers and writhes at the sensation, and dimly Seth can hear the slick sound of Stefon jerking himself off for a final, third orgasm. Barely any come spurts out, and the noise wrenched from Stefon’s throat is nearly pained. 

Seth kisses the last remnants of the sound off his lips before leaning back.

Stefon grins up at him. He still looks dazed with shades of blissed-out coloring his skin. “You’re home,” he says, and Seth isn’t sure if Stefon is just realizing it or if he just means it in general. 

“Yeah,” Seth says. All the annoyance and frustration that’s been bubbling in his gut since he stepped off the elevator evaporates. He could be a dick, could yell at Stefon, could beg the man not to keep doing this. He has every right to do it, really. But for all his bravado, Stefon is a soft touch, and Seth hates to see the other man anything other than happy. Even high and happy is better than upset.

“Yeah,” Seth says again. “I’m home,” 


End file.
